Fake
by TheAmericanGit
Summary: Alfred F. Jones was a happy kid. At least, most remembered it that way.


Alfred sat on the floor in his house, back in the United States, talking to his best friend, and his brother. His best friend, Arthur Kirkland, wasn't the nicest to him but he loved him with all his heart. And his brother, more his twin, Matthew Williams, was just as amazing. It was a normal day after school, all three deciding to hang out for the day. Alfred's parents were at work until 8 that night, so that was when Arthur was going to stay until. Even though Alfred didn't want his friend to leave he agreed, knowing his brother would stay around with him. His brother was always around him, they were happy people.

Arthur sighed and leaned against Alfred's bed, his British accent thick as always. "Bloody git, do your homework for once." He had his own homework in his lap, waiting to 'study' like he was promised. Alfred laughed at the British boy, too hyper to care about homework. "No way! We should play video games! I got a new one." He turned his game system on and put the game in, his back turned to the other two.

Both Arthur and Matthew sighed and just went with the enthusiastic boy's idea, putting their homework away. It had been awhile since they played video games anyways, and a new one didn't sound that bad. 8 pm came along quickly, and with sadness, Arthur had to say goodbye and head home. Alfred looked at Matthew like an excited puppy, but for once, Matthew wasn't there.

Alfred's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, looking around the area for his lost brother. "Matthew...?" When he didn't get a response he got worried and started running around the house to look for his brother, not used to not having someone to talk to. He finally found Matthew in his room with his parents, and even though he got the 'shh' sign from Matt he ran up, hugging him. "Mattie! I thought I lost you!"

Both of Alfred's parents, Mrs. Jane Jones and Mr. Steven Jones, sighed and looked at him pitifully. Alfred hadn't noticed either of their looks, rambling off to his brother on how he thought he had disappeared on him. Finally his father cleared his throat, holding his mother's hand. "Alfred, we're going to go on a trip. I want you to pack yourself."

Alfred pouted but agreed, standing up with all the energy in the world for a younger boy, packing his favorite duffle bag with some 'essentials'. By then his mother had left the room, he presumed it was to get a snack for the trip. "Where're we going?" Alfred asked with sparkling blue eyes, almost bouncing up and down.

His father smiled softly, standing up and walking out to the car with him. "We're going to a very good place." Alfred believed his father whole heartedly, smiling cheerfully and getting into the back of the car. The drive was long, not to mention stuffy with the air conditioning on low in the slight heat. Alfred stayed happy though it all, playing on a small DS he brought with himself.

Eventually the smell of the sea hit him head on from his open window, making him wrinkle his nose but get a bit more excited. "We're going to the ocean?" Alfred's mother smiled at him through the rear view mirror and nodded, going back to looking out the window. After another 30 minute of driving they stopped, but not at the beach like Alfred had hoped. They were at the clearing of a wooded area, his parents claiming the beach was just through the woods.

Once they were in far enough, the poor boy realized they weren't going to the beach and turned around to confront them. But instead of seeing his two lovely parents, he saw nothing. The 12 year olds first reaction was to just wait for them to catch up, and after awhile of that, to go looking for them. But instead of finding them just a few feet back, they were completely gone.

As he later found out, his family WAS at the beach, it just didn't include him. He was upset, confused, and for some reason, extremely angry. So he made a plan to get revenge, to kill them off. All that went through the happy-go-lucky boy's head was to kill. Maybe that was why they tried to deposit him in the woods, but he didn't care anymore. He wanted to go to the beach too, and he did, swimming in the stained red water, drinking fancy drinks with ordainment eye balls. But to his own distaste, he ended up back in the woods.

And eventually, back in a new home. Though this home wasn't nearly as friendly, only getting fed once a day and sharing rooms with other boys. But when he threw fits, he would get special treatment. As the years went on stuck in that home, his fits ended up in him getting in more trouble. He was sent to a juvenile detention center, and when a few officials caught word of him talking about how he killed his parents, he was sent to a small police center until he aged. Once he hit 15 he was sent to the actual jail he remembered clearly, charged as a minor for the time being.

~LineBreakLineBreakLineBreakLineBreakLineBreakLineB reak~

The 17 year old woke up to a dull grey ceiling and silence, no sunlight or window in sight. He scoffed slightly at his dream, rolling on his side. "That dream again." He murmured to himself, a smirk gracing his face. "Too bad they had more fun than I did." He heard the all too familiar clacking of his best friend Arthur's shoes and rolled to look outside the bars he was encaged in, the smirk not leaving his face. "Arthur~ I missed you."

Arthur shook his head slightly, sighing. "Truly Alfred, I was just here yesterday. It's your fault you got yourself stuck in here." Alfred couldn't help but laugh a bit at that, holding his sides slightly. "I don't think it's my fault Art. I really don't." When all he got was an eye roll back he climbed off the bunk, sitting near the bars.

Arthur sat down near the bars as well, stretching his bones. "You have the interview today right? The court case?" Alfred nodded, groaning slightly. "I rather not go. I'd love to just lay in bed." Soon too guards walking toward his cell made it apparent he had an earlier court date than he thought, and he stood up with barely any respect, getting handcuffed as soon as they opened the large steel bared door.

Alfred looked at Arthur for last minute reassurance and walked at the two men's pace, almost taking his time to get a final judgment. He would think he already had a judgment, being in there for awhile, but they didn't see it as one. He had to be put on the stand for everyone to see.

~LineBreakLineBreakLineBreakLineBreakLineBreakLineB reak~

Alfred was bored. He wasn't paying attention to anything the lawyer rambled on about until he asked him a question, staring at him for a few seconds then before answering.

"So Mr. Jones, how did you land yourself in here?"

Alfred looked at him like he was crazy. "How? By doing something bad."

"And what did you do?" The lawyer asked, hands clasped behind his back.

"I told you. Something bad. I hurt some people I shouldn't have."

"Who'd you hurt?"

"My parents and my brother."

"Did you associate yourself with anyone else?"

"Yes, my best friend was around a lot. Arthur Kirkland."

"Oh? And is Arthur here today?"

"Yes. He's in the back bench on the end."

All eyes transferred from Alfred to the back bench, nothing in site there. Though the lawyer eventually made him mad, ending the interrogation on his part. After the judgment, Alfred was hauled to his feet by the same two guards, but he wasn't taken back to his cell. No, he was taken to the chair. For the first degree murder of three people, no sympathy that he was claimed mentally insane at the same moment.

It was a bit harsh, even the judge admitted it, but Alfred was happy. He was done with the cell, he was done with the therapy. He was done being looked at weird for keeping in touch with friends. Arthur was one of the people to stand and watch him die, no tears running down his pale cheeks. Alfred smiled at him when the drug was injected into his main vein, heading straight to his heart. He couldn't lie, it hurt. It hurt badly. But he didn't show any pain, keeping that dopey smile at Arthur until his heart finally stopped.

There was no gravestone, nothing to say how amazing he was or how much he would be missed. There was just stories passed from guard to guard about the cellmate that talked to himself. The cellmate that died with a smile on his face. And the most infamous, the teen that was already 6 foot under before he started. And in his cell lay a single petal of a flower, crimson red in color yet fading.


End file.
